Wounded
by clair beaubien
Summary: Pre-Series. My "Choices" Universe. Vin is 18 and comes home gunshot. No other M7 characters are in this story.
1. Chapter 1

Tom woke up in the gray of early morning. Sofia's side of the bed was empty and he could hear the sounds from the kitchen that she was already busy making breakfast. Through the open bedroom window he heard the particular screech of the privy door and the jangle of harness. One of the boys must be up early.

After a few more minutes waiting to come fully awake, Tom got out of bed and got ready to start his day. Drawing on his socks and trousers, pulling his suspenders over his undershirt and carrying his boots in his hand, he padded down the hallway past the boys' bedrooms.

Through the half open door of the first room he saw Tommy getting ready to start shaving.

The next two doors were closed. Max was probably still asleep, Robert was probably just stirring.

Behind Eugene's door, Tom could hear the scritch scratch of his pen. If he showed up at breakfast fully dressed, he'd been awake all night, writing.

The last room, Vin's room, stood wide open and empty. He'd been gone nearly a month; he'd turned eighteen since the last time his family saw him. Telegrams from fellow sheriffs who knew Tom and had standing orders to report sightings of the prodigal had reported him up to three hundred miles away. The last telegram, seven days ago, had him a little more than one hundred miles from home. He'd joined a posse, suffered a graze from a ricochet, and turned for home as soon as the stage robbers were behind bars.

Seven days were more than enough time to ride one hundred and twenty five miles. If Vin wasn't home today, Tom was heading out to find him.

Stepping out of the back stairway, he stepped into a kitchen filled with the sounds and smells of breakfast; coffee perking, biscuits baking, ham and eggs frying. Sofia stood at the huge black stove, managing everything at once, happy and busy by herself in the kitchen.

Tom set his boots down and walked behind her to wrap his arms around her.

"Buenos dias novia." He whispered close to her ear. She smelled of warmth and spices.

"Buenos dias amore." She turned her face to accept his kiss on her cheek but she continued cooking. "Breakfast will be on the table in three minutes."

"The boys will be downstairs soon." And that made Tom think of something. "Is someone outside? I heard harness out there."

"No, not that I know of. You are the first awake as usual."

Tom pulled on his boots and went out the front door and across the porch. The yard was still shaded in gray, with dawn only a chunky red line in the distance, but he could see the saddled horse at the trough, drinking deeply. Next to the trough, harder to see in darker shade, with his knees pulled up, sat Vin. Tom went to stand in front of him. Prodigal and horse both looked done in.

"Boy - where the hell have you been?"

Vin slowly lifted his head to look up at him.

"Sofia don't cotton to cussin'."

"Yeah well - you let Sofia get a good look at you and I bet you'll hear words you never heard before."

But Vin didn't answer, he looked down, and Tom softened his tone.

"You just pull in?"

"I gave Gabby his head and he came here."

"You're just in time, your Mama's just putting breakfast on the table. C'mon in and we'll take care of your horse." But Vin didn't move. "You hear me boy?"

Vin lifted his head.

"I can't stand up."

That didn't worry Tom; given the condition of Vin and poor Gabby, he figured the boy was just plum exhausted. "C'mon, I'll give you a hand." He hooked an arm under Vin's and started to pull him up. Vin's yell surprised him.

"_NO - WAIT - DON'T_."

Too late Tom realized it wasn't only exhaustion. Nearly upright, Vin crumpled to his left side with only Tom's arm keeping him upright.

"What is it? What's happened to you?"

Even as Vin didn't answer, the front door burst open and the boys rushed out, followed by Dingo. Tommy still had flecks of shaving lather on his face. Max was barefoot and hadn't even pulled his suspenders over his undershirt. Robert was fully dressed except for buttoning up his shirt. Eugene was fully dressed as well, he even had his good jacket on.

Last of all Sofia hurried out, nearly passing the boys as they all ran to Vin.

"What happened?" Tommy asked first. "Vin?"

"Don't - touch - me." Vin breathed out, still sagging in Tom's arms. "Please."

"Sheriff Burns said he'd been hit with a ricochet." Tom said. "Boy - where'd you get hit?"

"Gilmer." Vin managed to say.

"He musta got hit in the funny bone." Max offered. He knelt and despite Vin's weak protests, ran his hand along Vin's left side.

"Sorry Stinky, we gotta know." He looked up at their father. "His hipbone, it's hard and it's hot. We gotta get him into the house."

"Don't touch me. Please don't touch me."

"We have to get you in the house boy." Tom said, and promised, "We'll be as gentle as we can."

Vin felt like somebody was driving a ragged stick down his thigh and into his calf. Any movement was agony and sent shudders of sweating cold throughout his body. He didn't care if he laid out here in the dust for the rest of his life, as long as nobody moved him. Now they were talking about carrying him up the stairs and into the house. That would kill him.

"Don't touch me. Please don't touch me."

"Can you walk on your own boy?"

"Let me try." But one step on his own had Vin nearly buckling back to the earth in agony; only Tom's arms kept him upright.

"Let me take your weight boy." Tom said. "We'll get this sorted out."

Then more things were said that Vin couldn't quite make out over the pain shrieking in his head. Tommy was bossing, Max was talking too fast, Robert and Eugene were standing close by. Sofia was sent back inside. Something about hot water. Something about an old door in the barn. Dingo muttered in his throat, dancing on the edges of the small crowd. Tom just kept holding on, keeping Vin close and upright.

Tommy and Robert carried the old door out of the barn while Tom kept Vin upright and Max pulled aside his shirt and undershirt to get a better look at the damage.

"How bad is it?" Eugene asked. He'd been at a loss the whole time Vin was gone. Those two were so close Tom was surprised Eugene hadn't felt Vin's wound in his own body.

"We'll get him on the mend again." Tom answered, cutting off the answer he could see in Max's face. "You know he's as tough as rawhide."

"No he ain't." Eugene answered softly.

"We'll get him through."

"All right, how're we doing this?" Tommy demanded. "Lift him on?"

"_No, please don't touch me_."

"Set it on the ground and lay him down on it?" Tommy went on while Tom spoke comfort and soft encouragement to Vin.

"Shouldn't we lift him onto it?" Max asked.

"Stand it up behind him." Robert said. "Lean him against it and lift that way."

Tom nodded his agreement and took a stronger hold on Vin.

"All right boy, let us do the work. Just relax and let us do the work."

Vin could barely hear what Tom was saying, all that came through was the sound of his voice. Tom was talking, the boys were moving around, Eugene was taking hold of his free hand. Something was pressed against his back and he was lifted off his feet. The pain flooded past his hip, up his side, and spread across his guts. If he'd had anything in his stomach, he would've lost it for sure.

Over the pain and the nausea, he became aware that he was moving. Flat on his back, with the brightening sky moving overhead, Vin saw that he was being taken up the stairs and into the house.

The grip on his hand let go as they cleared the front door, and he watched the parlor ceiling go by until he recognized the punched tin ceiling of the dining room. He stopped moving then but was in too much pain and too queasy to wonder what he was lying on or what was about to happen.

He'd only just started to get comfortable on his hard bed when he felt the clothes being pulled away from his throbbing side and something hot and sopping wet was laid on his wound. The resulting explosion of pain made Vin scream in agony. He tried to sit up, clawing blindly to stop the torture. Strong arms held him back and restrained his hands, and he turned his face into a broad chest, sobbing and pleading for the pain to stop.

A tumbler of wine was pressed to his lips and he gulped it down, half out of thirst and half because he knew it would dull the pain. A lot of it spilled down his chin and onto his neck and as soon as it was gone another tumbler full was pressed on him. The effect of the liquor on a stomach that'd had little else in it for three days was strong and immediate. The world rolled up like a window shade and Vin was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

Vin woke up with a high hum buzzing in his ears and a pleasant warmth all over his body. Overhead, and in the edges of his vision, the dining room swam into focus, with the massive cut glass chandelier hanging over his head.

"I guess this is what it feels like to be Christmas dinner." he said. His soft comment stirred activity and Sofia and Tom came into view on either side of his head.

"Corazon! Are you all right?"

"Hey boy, you sure gave us a fright."

"How are you feeling? Do you need anything?"

"Water? Please?"

In a moment a strong arm was under Vin's shoulders, lifting him off the table while Sofia held a glass of water for him to sip. The ache in his side was no longer agony but was bad enough.

As Tom laid him back down on a thin pillow, Sofia bent close and laid her hand on his forehead.

"Do you think you could eat something Corazon?"

"Might be I could try."

"I'll get you some soup."

As Sofia left his field of vision. Tom came into clearer focus.

"Gabby?" Vin asked.

"He's fine, boy. Don't worry. He had himself a meal and a nice long drink and he's out in the pasture, telling the other horses all about his adventures. Now I want to ask about _you_. I know for a fact that Gilmer has a good half dozen doctors in it. Why didn't you have yourself looked at as soon as you were hurt, instead of trailing halfway across Texas, burning up with fever?" His voice was stern. "You know we would've been out there in a heartbeat to bring you home."

Vin was saved from answering by Sofia's quick return.

"He came home as he should have, to be taken care of properly." Her voice was as stern as Tom's had been.

"Well, I guess that's a fact." Tom said. "This is where you belong."

Same as the water, Tom held Vin up while Sofia fed him spoonfuls of the clear soup. He didn't think he'd ever tasted anything so good. When he was done, they laid him down again.

"How long you gonna keep me on the dining room table?" He asked.

"Until you start complaining." Tom said.

"Ain't complaining yet."

And Vin went back to sleep.

The next time Vin woke up, the sun was on the other side of the house. The dining room was dim and cool, and the only heat in his body was the pain still burning in his hip. He tried to say something but what came out sounded a lot like the sound he used to make when he was little and had to eat butter beans.

"You spoke?"

"Eugene?"

"If that egregious noise was meant to be my name, then yes."

Eugene appeared over Vin, wearing the lensless pince nez that Uncle Eusebius had given him. Vin asked him for some water.

"Knive fun oar?" Eugene asked, mocking innocent. Vin generated enough spit to speak his next sentence clearly.

"_Kill - you - slowly_."

"Happy birthday to you too, my petite frere. Here, a nice big glass of water." He helped Vin sit up enough to drink. After he set Vin back on the pillow, he leaned close and said:

"You know I love you dearly Vin and would gladly die for your sake, but if you are required to relieve yourself in anyway whilst laying atop our dining table, I shall never be able to eat here again."

"I'm having the self-same thought Eugene. Can we get me upstairs?"

"I shall try my utmost. And we're in luck, Mama is in the yard with Pa at this very moment discussing your condition, so we have the opportunity to relocate you unimpeded."

As Vin tried to push himself upright over the pain in his side and the whirling in his brain, he remembered the possibly cut apart condition of his clothing.

"Am I decent?"

"Decent? I don't know. You're certainly adequate."

"_Eugene_. Are my clothes gonna fall off of me when I stand up?"

"Oh - ." Eugene took a long look up and down Vin's body. "I think you should be all right. Will you be able to walk?"

"I got myself home didn't I?"

"I notice you were unable to get into the house under your volition."

"Ahh - y'all ambushed me. I only needed some time."

Eugene pulled out an absurdly large pocket watch, another gift of Uncle Eusebius.

"Shall I begin timing you now?"

"I hate you." Vin sank back again, winded from trying to sit up and feeling the wound in his hip pull angrily.

"All right, I apologize." Eugene chuckled and replaced his watch in its pocket. "Let's see how far we can get. Let me do the work."

Vin held his breath while Eugene helped him sit up and swing his legs over the side of the table. The pain crested but tolerably, and Vin wrapped his arm around Eugene's shoulders. When he stood though the room spun and he had to sit down again. Cold sweat chased hot shivers up his front and down his back.

"Are you all right?"

"Remember when we drank that bottle of Uncle Eusebius's nerve tonic?"

"Oh dear. Well - oh dear. Let me - let me get -."

"Eugene - I'm not about to catch fire - I'm just - ohhhh -." His stomach rolled and he leaned his forehead on Eugene's shoulder. "All right - get somebody."

"Somebody is here." Tom said. Vin couldn't lift his head to look at him. "What do you two think you're doing?"

"If I relieve myself on the table, Eugene'll never eat here again." Vin muttered into Eugene's shoulder.

"This from the boys who ate an entire stolen raspberry pie out in the barn," Sofia said. "_Last year_."

"No, don't mention food, Mama. I beg you. This is my good jacket." Eugene implored her.

"Let me have him." Tom said, and Vin felt Eugene move away, the support he offered immediately replaced with Tom's hands on his shoulders. One hand then moved to Vin's chin and lifted his face up to Tom.

"Do you have any idea how sick you are?" Tom asked him.

Vin's head ached, his side burned, his stomach rolled, his whole body was flooded with heat except for the chill in his armpits and elbows and behind his neck and knees. Tom's face shimmered before his eyes, and if he had to stay upright one minute longer on his own, he was going to fall flat on his face.

"I'm starting to have an idea." He answered Tom.

"You need to lie down."

"I want to be in my room."

"We'll make a place for you down here."

"_I want to be in my room_."

"All right boy. We'll get you upstairs. I'll carry you."

Vin wanted to disagree but by the time he remembered the words, Tom had lifted him up and was carrying him through the kitchen and up the back staircase.

As much as Tom wanted Vin to stay as still as possible, downstairs, he couldn't ignore the boy's plea to be in his own room. It was too rare these days that he admitted out loud that this was his home, Tom wanted to encourage the smallest hint in that direction.

He lifted Vin in his arms to carry upstairs. The last time he'd carried the boy had to be more than five years before, maybe closer to ten, probably carrying him in asleep from the barn or the yard, after an evening of playing Mexicans and Artillery with Eugene.

Setting Vin onto his bed, Tom was worried that he stayed curled on his side and didn't relax into the feather mattress. Sofia was right behind with a basin of hot water and towels, and Eugene and Dingo stood near the doorway, both looking worried and at a loss. Max was in the room last, carrying a bowl of boiled milk and bread for the poultices.

"We need to get his clothes off." Sofia said to Max. In most medical emergencies, Max led the charge.

"C'mon Eugene." Tom said. "We got a ranch to run." Eugene turned disbelieving eyes up to him.

"But - Pa -." He said helplessly. "I - thought -."

Tom looked over to Vin, still curled in the posture of pain in the bed. He caught Max's eyes.

"Eugene?" Max asked. "Can you help Mama take care of Stinky? You have to get his clothes off and keep the poultice on him, no matter how much he might holler or beg you to stop."

"I - I can do that." Eugene said. He sounded unsure of himself. He took the lensless glasses from his face and tucked them into his jacket pocket and nodded. "I can do that." He repeated.

"All right then. Pa, we can handle Eugene's share. Vin'll be easier with him nearby anyway."

Tom doubted Eugene could remain calm if Vin got violent in fever or pain. But he'd be no good in the yard either if his heart, mind and attention were all focused on this room. And Vin _would_ be easier with Eugene nearby.

"Novia," he said to Sofia. "I won't go far. Call if you need anything."

"I only need time and the Good Lord's good will." She answered.

Max handed the bowl to Eugene and clapped him on the arm before leaving the room. Dingo jogged to the bed, put his front paws on the mattress and snuffled Vin's hair.

"Eugene?" Vin asked, his voice pitifully thin. "That you?"

At first thinking Vin was overcome with delerium, Tom caught the small smile quirking at the corner of Vin's mouth. Apparently so did Eugene.

"Ha. Ha. I have the pleasure of informing you, my petite frere, that I have been given the enviable task of undressing you and applying this stinging hot poultice to the ghastly wound on your hip. Do you still wish to mock me?"

"Sure. It'll give me something to live for."

Eugene turned to Sofia.

"Mama, I believe it's in Vin's best interest that he be rendered unconscious before pursuing further treatment."

Tom decided Eugene was going to be fine.


	3. Chapter 3

Afternoon was passing by, dragging evening along behind it. Crossing the yard behind the house, Tom was surprised to see Eugene coming out of the house. He had changed out of his Sunday best, which he always wore when writing, into his everyday work clothes.

"How're things inside?" Tom asked.

"Um, well, Vin's - resting. The wound - it's not draining the way they think it should. Mama called Max back in and sent Manny to town to see if there's any word yet from a doctor, and to telegraph Aunt Emilia to come look to the house while Mama's - busy. She sent me out, Mama sent me out because she's going to bathe Vin she said. I've brought her in buckets of fresh water but - but - his fever seems to be getting worse."

Tom knew how worried Eugene was. They were all worried but Eugene and Vin were best friends as well as brothers.

As he looked into Eugene's face, Tom could see his own features reflected. Max and Eugene had their mother's hair, dark to almost being black. They had their father's features though, while Tommy and Robert had their father's coloring but the angular features of their mother, Honor Hamilton Silverlake, the love of Tom's youth and the blood and bone of his children. Oddly enough, though Vin's hair was lighter in color and texture, gift of his mother, Tom's darling Rachel, he had features very similar to Tommy and Robert.

"Did you get any sleep at all last night?" Tom asked. Eugene rolled one shoulder slightly, which Tom recognized as a unintentional motion that he was trying not lie.

"Well, my brain produced a prodigious flux of words which I was compelled to write down or go mad. I apologize, I know it's late in the day, but I've come to see to what use I may put myself."

"Eugene - go back in the house and put your head down. We have enough hands here to keep the day going."

"No, after supper I may succumb to an early rest, but for now I'm sound."

"Won't do to have you collapse in the dirt here." Tom pointed out and Eugene's face clouded. His features drew in sharply and Tom saw tears in his eyes.

"I don't want to be alone." Eugene said. Tom put his arm around his shoulders.

"Well then, come along and we'll see if we can't find you an occupation."

The house did not sleep. Sofia certainly did not sleep, and Tom only caught snatches in the wing chair at the foot of Vin's bed. The only help Sofia would accept from the servants was to let Manny carry in the constant flow of buckets of fresh water; even the boiling of milk and bread for the continuous poultices she would trust to no one but herself and Maxwell.

As dawn welled up into the horizon, a full twenty four hours after collapsing at the trough out front, Vin was no better. His fever burned steady and hot, the festering wound refused to drain, and he was by turns miserably restless and frighteningly still.

Praying a stream of prayers, Sofia picked up the porcelain basin, empty of its milk and bread. She let one hand trail affectionately along Tom's shoulder as she walked past. In the flickering candlelight, Tom could see Eugene crushed into the settee under Vin's windows, his head resting on his arm and covered with Tom's jacket, fast asleep.

Shortly after Sofia left the room, Vin began to toss on his pillows, breathing fast and mumbling in a high pitched questioning tone. Tom went to him. He took the towel off of Vin's forehead to ring out in fresh cool water and replace. Vin stopped tossing and mumbling and looked at Tom.

"Where's Dingo?" he asked, in that same high voice.

"He's sleeping under the bed, don't you hear him snoring?"

"It hurts."

"I know it does boy. We're doing everything we can think of, and we ain't run out of ideas yet." Tom set himself gently on the bed. With one hand, Vin gripped the coverlet that covered him nearly to his throat. Tom put his own hand over Vin's.

"Where's Dingo?"

"He's sleeping, under the bed." Tom put his other hand on Vin's face, drawing the boy's attention to him. "Did I ever tell you the first time I laid eyes on you and your Ma?" With very tired eyes, Vin nodded. "I guess that means you don't want to hear it again."

"Tell me something 'bout my Ma. Something I don't know."

"She was stubborn."

"Something I _don't_ know." Vin repeated, breathless.

"Your Ma was a strong woman, but you know what her one weakness was?"

"You." Vin said, then laughed. Thin though it was, Tom was encouraged to hear it. "Where's Dingo?" Vin asked again.

"Under the bed boy. He's sleeping. You should be too."

"It hurts. When's it gonna stop hurting?"

"Soon boy. It's gonna stop hurting soon. I promise."

Vin nodded and twined his fingers into Tom's to pull his hand closer to his face.

"Can't y'just go set me in the river? Think it'd feel a sight better."

"You don't get better soon boy, it may just come to that." Tom brushed his hand through Vin's hair. "So close your eyes and get some rest boy. We'll get you through this."

Vin nodded again and closed his eyes and was still for a while, holding onto Tom's hand. When Tom pulled his hand free to refresh the sopping towel, Vin started up from his pillows.

"Pa?"

"I'm here boy, I'm here." Tom leaned down close to him. "You close your eyes and let me and your Mama take care of you, you hear?"

"Yessir."


	4. Chapter 4

Vin became aware that he was in hell. Fire burned his body. It climbed up his shoulders and seemed to pour out his eyes and his ears. It dried his mouth until he thought even all the water in the river wouldn't be enough to quench his thirst. Strange faces leered at him and strange voices drummed his ears. He didn't seem to sleep yet he never seemed to be completely awake. Sometimes it was nighttime, with candles filling the darkness. Sometimes it was daytime and Vin could make out the familiar details of his bedroom. Day or night, sometimes he thought he saw his mother in the room. As fast as he'd turn his head to catch sight of her, she was never there.

Now, candles lit the room again. He was turned onto his right side, as hot as standing next to a furnace. His left side pulsed with furious precision, each pulse starting in his hip and blossoming down to his foot and up to his armpit, with a repetitive stab of nausea each time.

He blinked. His eyes felt as dry as sand. He blinked again, and again saw his mother out of the corner of his eye. Desperate to catch full sight of her as she seemed to disappear towards his bedroom door, Vin rolled over, onto his wounded side, and the shock of pain that resulted propelled him right off the bed, onto the floor, where he landed on his wounded side again. He tried to call for his mother but his mouth was as dry as his eyes; his lips stuck to his teeth and his tongue felt as stiff as old leather.

Instantly though, almost as soon as his body hit the floor, his mother was there. He couldn't see her, he could barely hear her voice over the roar of pain and fire in his ears, but he could feel the soft silk and lace on the arms that lifted him up, that covered the bosom he was pressed to. His mother was finally with him again and though he had no tears, he wept in her arms.

Night slowly overtook the ranch. Standing out on the porch, if Tom looked to his right, the sky was black with nighttime, while to his left the sun was giving a last long look over the horizon, as it sunk red and pink into the night. He wasn't out here to admire God's glory though; Robert sat on the top step, shoulders slumped and head down, leaning against the balustrade as heavily as if he had no energy left.

Tom sat down next to his son.

"You should go to bed Robert, you're done in."

"How can I be done in when I haven't _done_ anything?"

It was an odd answer. No one in the family had gotten much rest since Vin had come home gunshot and sick nearly four days before.

"What has Tommy done?" Tom asked. He was too tired to be anything but blunt. "Or Eugene? Or even _me_ for that matter. Max studies up on medicine so he knows a bit more than most. All that the rest of us can do is wait and pray and keep the ranch going."

Robert sighed and shook his head and didn't say anything. Since suffering from the same sickness that had taken Rachel from them twelve years before, Robert had never had the same stamina as his brothers, though Tom would never bring that up to him. The truth was that only because Vin wasn't contagious was Robert even allowed near him.

"You get your rest; could be Eugene's gonna need you." Tom said and then sighed himself. "Robert, could be he needs you _already_."

It was then that they heard Sofia cry out from Vin's bedroom windows over the porch.

For convenience, they didn't keep Vin in a nightshirt or even drawers while he was sick in bed. It was easier to keep the poultices on him, and easier to keep him clean. As Tom and the four boys raced into his room, they found Vin on the floor, in Sofia's arms. With her apron and her skirts she had covered him from his knees almost up to his shoulders. The sight left her sons shocked both at finding Vin on the floor, weeping and retching, and at the amount of pantelets their mother was exposing.

Tommy moved forward first. "I'll get him back in bed," he said, preparing to lift Vin off the floor.

"_No_.." Sofia said. Her voice was harsh and anguished. She sounded like she might cry. Then she collected herself. "No. It would be better to change his bedding first."

"C'mon Eugene." Robert said immediately. "We can take care of that." While they stripped the bed, Tom knelt in front of Sofia. He put his hand on Vin's head; because of the fever they'd shorn off most of his hair.

"What happened?"

"I don't know. I went to the door to ask for more towels and the next thing I knew he was on the floor. I don't think he's even fully conscious."

Tom considered his family. Everyone was exhausted, Sofia most of all, but they all had the dark rings of weariness under their eyes, and the tight coil of stress in their backs. After Robert and Eugene had stripped the bed, Tommy and Maxwell used fresh linens to remake it. Once that was done, Tom stood up.

"All right, that's it. Everybody goes to bed. Right now." A chorus of voices immediately disagreed with him and he raised his own voice to argue back.

"Every one of us is dead on our feet. What good is it gonna do Vin if we all end up face down on the carpet? I'll take first lookout, and Emilia can help with the poultices." His wife took great offense at this. He turned back to her. His voice was stern.

"Sofia, we're not trying to make gold outta lead here. It's bread and milk and it's boiled. You don't trust your own sister to help me with that so's you can get the first sleep you've had in nearly four days?" Her only answer was to pull Vin closer.

"I'm not tired." Robert said.

"Then I'll wake you first to take over." Tom countered.

Finally Tommy conceded. "C'mon. Let's not argue with Pa. Sooner we sleep, the sooner we'll be awake again." So the boys left and that left Tom facing Sofia's furious gaze. He knelt down again and put his hand on Vin's head. The boy was quiet and resting on his mother's breast.

"Please Novia." His voice was gentle now. "What would I do if you became ill?"

"Sí." She finally agreed. "I can rest for a moment on the settee then -."

"You're going to bed Sofia if I have to carry you there myself."

"He's so sick Thomas, I'm afraid."

"So am I. Here, let me get the boy back into bed." He stood up to pull the blankets back, then bent down to lift Vin out of Sofia's skirts and set him into the bed as quick as possible so he didn't get chilled. His eyes were open but not focused on anything, and his skin was scorching hot.

Once the boy was safe in bed under the blankets, Tom helped Sofia to her feet. She stood at the side of the bed, gazing down at Vin until Tom urged her on.

"Bed Novia. I promise I will get you if anything happens. You need to sleep."

So she bent down to kiss her son, she kissed Tom, and still Tom had to escort her to the door.

Just as Tom thought he had the room to himself, Dingo crawled out from under the bed, wagging his tail.

"All right, you can stay. But you yawn once, and you're back under the bed sleeping." And Dingo's tail thumped in agreement against the bed frame.

Tom pulled the blankets aside and held a candle close to have a fresh look at Vin's wound. The angry scab had cracked in several places and green and brown pus oozed through the breaks.

"Well boy, it looks like taking a tumble out of bed might've done you some good." Tom said even though he figured Vin couldn't hear him or understand him. "We might get that fiend to drain yet." He laid a fresh poultice on the wound and covered it with an old towel, then straightened the blankets back into place.

Tired and aching, instead of sitting back in the chair, Tom set himself on the bed, wtih his back against the headboard and his hand resting on Vin's shorn head. It felt good to stretch his legs out on the mattress.

"You see how our boy has grown Rachel?" He asked, quietly. "Stubborn like you, and a fighter. He needs to fight now Rachel, you know how much he needs to fight. We can't lose him; help us keep him here."

At the side of the bed, Dingo jumped up to put his front paws on the mattress near Vin, and he chuffed out a small woof.

"My apologies." Tom told him, adding, "Rachel, Dingo says 'hi'."


	5. Chapter 5

"You said you'd call somebody after two hours." Tommy said, walking into Vin's room. He had pulled a pair of trousers on over his long johns; his suspenders trailed down the back of his legs.

"No, I said I'd take first watch." Tom reminded him as he replaced the cool towel on Vin's forehead.

"On the trail, watch is two hours."

"Well, we ain't on the trail, are we?"

"It's almost dawn Pa. I'm rested. I can take this watch."

"And are _you_ gonna wake somebody in two hours?" Tom asked.

"No, probably not." Tommy grinned. "I figure to let 'em sleep until they wake up on their own. We're used to the long nights, they're not."

"Don't tell me you miss spending weeks in the saddle, chasing outlaws. We were both a lot younger then."

"I don't miss 'em, but sometimes the training does come in handy."

"Too much talking." A thin, annoyed voice said from deep inside feather pillows.

"You with us Small Fry?" Tommy asked.

"Cold." Vin said. He sounded half asleep. "I'm cold."

"I'd say that's a good sign." Tom said. Both men brought candles closer to the bed. Tom pulled the blankets and pillows aside and felt Vin's forehead. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"His fever's broke."

Instead of heat, now Vin found himself wrapped in an icy blanket. Chills and shivering shook his body almost continually and kept him from getting any real sleep. He knew somebody, Sofia, Tom, Max was keeping hot bricks against his back and feet and chest, but his body seemed to drain the heat from them rather than be warmed by them.

His hip throbbed less at least and he could feel a strange, cold, tingling sensation down the outside of his thigh. He'd almost think he felt better, if only he wasn't so cold. Burrowing into his pillows and quilts didn't help, even when Sofia wrapped him in her shawls and wrapped him in her arms and held him one long night all night long, his entire body shuddered violently, giving him a headache that went all the way down his neck into his shoulders.

Now it was nighttime again and he was still cold.

"Hey, Stinky. Are you with me?" Max came into view over the pillows.

"I'm cold."

"I know you are. Your fever's hanging on, that's why. This'll help, come on, can you sit up?"

"What?"

"Can you sit up Stinky? I've got some good old fashioned whiskey for you. That'll warm your bones. Come on."

Vin couldn't help much with sitting up; Max did most of the work, sitting next to Vin and raising him up on his shoulder.

"This'll warm you up Stinky. Just don't tell Mama I'm giving it to you."

He pressed a small glass against Vin's lips, and he took a tentative sip. And choked.

"Sorry Stinky, it's whiskey. Y'gotta get used to it. But it'll warm you up."

Vin had never had a real drink of whisky before. Sofia told him, told all the boys, they weren't allowed anything stronger than wine before they reached their majority. The whisky burned going down but it did begin to warm Vin, starting oddly enough at his toes and working upward.

"Is that better?" Max asked, after giving Vin another swallow of whiskey. He kept Vin snug against his shoulder. "Getting warmer?"

"Uh hunh."

"You wanna lay back down?"

"Unh unh." Vin shook his head.

"Okay." Max pulled the blankets higher and tucked them around. "We'll just stay here for awhile then."

Vin took a deep breath and let it out slowly, feeling his body sink against Maxwell.

"Max?"

"Yeah?"

"Tell me about the bobcat?"

"Well..." Max launched into the story immediately. "He was bigger than an earthquake and uglier than ingratitude. Ma was carrying in this ham that musta cured for five years if a day it was so big and that bobcat decided he just had to have that ham or die trying. So Ma had hold of one end of that ham, and that bobcat had hold of the other end. Neither one was giving up 'til Ma laid hold of her griddle and whacked that bobcat a good one and he hightailed it outta there so fast that he's still running to this very day."

Vin smiled into Max's shirt, thinking of his Ma and how lively she always was.

"Max?"

"Yeah?"

"Tell me the real story?"

"Sure Stinky. We were helping Ma carrying in some boxes of groceries in the back door. She had the ham and we heard a bobcat way out in the scrub and she said if he got too close, she'd whack him with her skillet. That's the true story Stinky."

"I miss her a lot sometimes." Vin said.

"So do I Stinky. I think about her everyday."

"Yeah, me too." Vin took a deep breath again "I wanna lay down, 'kay?"

"Okay."

So Max laid him back into the pillows and quilts, and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"You'll sleep now Stinky. I'll be right here with you."

Vin found he could sleep, the shivering had eased and the pain in his neck was slowly releasing. He shifted around into a more comfortable position, feeling Max sitting beside him, and sleep overcame him.

As Vin woke up, he became aware that he was finally completely warm. He also became aware of a warm body pressed against his, a thin arm draped over his chest, and soft breath blowing past his ear. He turned his head and found himself eye to nose with Dingo. The dog was soundly asleep and apparently quite comfortable, with his head on one of Vin's pillows.

"I'm not keeping y'awake, am I?" Vin asked. His voice was a dry whisper. Dingo didn't even twitch.

"Vin?" Two voices spoke at once, Robert and Eugene appeared at the closest edge of the bed. They stood so close together and had so much the same look on their faces that Vin had to ask,

"Somebody sew you two together?"

Robert raised his eyebrows in surprise and Eugene said, "I don't believe I know that language."

But when Vin whispered, "Water?" as clear as he could, his brothers jumped to action. Robert helped him sit up and Eugene produced a large glass of water. Dingo barely noticed that he was being disturbed; he lifted his head, then settled back into the pillows with a snuff.

Vin drank deeply; only his need to breathe made him pause.

"How long I been givin' you all this trouble?" He asked.

"Let me see..." Eugene started. "I recall most distinctly the day we first met..."

Vin leaned his head back to get a good look at Robert.

"Y'kill him for me?"

"I leave that to you Vin."

"Oh, you mean this trouble?" Eugene asked. "Oh my - what is it? A fortnight? Perhaps even a month?"

Vin looked to Robert again, who shook his head.

"It'll be eight days when the sun's up again.

"

"Well it certainly felt longer." Eugene said, and Robert agreed.

"I'm cold." Vin said.

"Bad cold?" Eugene asked.

"No, just cold."

"We can stay here then, if you want." Robert offered. "You'll be warmer if we stick together."

"Okay."

In a few minutes, Vin had fallen asleep, resting back against Robert's shoulder, within the circle of Robert's arm.

"Our fearsome desperado." Eugene said. Robert disagreed.

"I find it hard to refer to anyone as fearsome who I used to have to walk to the privy."


	6. Chapter 6

Tom found them all there when he checked on Vin later. Eugene was asleep across the foot of the bed. Robert sat at the edge of the bed with one foot on the floor and one leg stretched out on the mattress. He had one arm wrapped around Vin's shoulders, and Vin's head was resting on Robert's shoulder. They were both asleep. On the far side of the bed, snoring and jogging in his sleep, Dingo was stretched out so completely that he took up half of the wide mattress.

"Come on, time for bed." Tom shook Eugene awake, then Robert. "Dingo needs his room you know."

Both boys came awake slowly. Robert looked around and then settled Vin back down on the little bit of pillow that Dingo wasn't using before standing up. Eugene scrunched his eyes tight then blinked them open.

"Is it morning?"

"It's midnight." Tom told him, adding: "Oh no you don't," when Eugene closed his eyes again. "Bed."

Eugene grumbled but pulled himself upright, scrubbing his face with his sleeve, and followed Robert out of the room. Tom heard Sofia down the hallway, shepherding them to their rooms and bed. He turned the flame up on the bedside lamp.

"Pa?"

"I'm here." Tom sat on the edge of the mattress and felt Vin's forehead. The fever was entirely gone. "How're you feeling?"

"Tired."

"Then go back to sleep boy. I'll be here with you."

"Okay Pa."

Tom pulled the quilt up and laid his hand on Vin's cheek, and just looked at his son for awhile in the yellow lamplight. Vin called him 'Pa' about as often as it snowed on Christmas in Texas. When he did, it was usually at times like this, when he was sick to the point of being delirious. Tom hated Vin being sick, but he did like hearing him say 'Pa'.

"Well Rachel, am I doing a good job with Vin?" He asked. After a moment, Dingo lifted his head to look back at Tom over his shoulder, then wagged his tail. "I guess I'll take that as a yes."

Sofia came into the room after a few minutes.

"The boys in bed?" he asked.

"Sí. Both asleep already."

"Did Eugene at least take off his boots first?"

"Sí." Sofia smiled. "After I reminded him." She stood at Tom's side. "How is he?"

"His fever's all gone. I expect the worst is over."

"The worst will be the next time he rides away from home."

"That's true." Tom had to admit. "He is a wanderer. He must get it from his father. Rachel said Martin had the self-same habit."

"He always comes home though. That is the most important thing. He always comes home to his family."

Three days later, Vin was strong enough that Sofia and Max decided he could be moved to the settee under his window. More than a week of illness had left him gaunt and pale, and he leaned heavily on Max for the four or five steps between his bed and the settee.

"How're you holding up Stinky?" Max asked as he tucked the coverlet over Vin.

"Fine." Vin answered, but he was out of breath, sweating and light headed.

"Yeah, you sound it."

"Still don't know why y'all had to cut my hair."

"Don't worry Stinky, it'll grow back. You'll be looking like Tommy again before you know it."

"I don't grow it long to look like Tommy." Vin grumbled. He rubbed his hand over his hair. Being short as it was now, it was curly. It wouldn't uncurl until it was at least past his collar.

"Tommy thought you did. He was happy that at least one of us wanted to be like him."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. Here, are you all settled now? Mama'll be bringing up your dinner directly."

"Yeah, I'm okay.

"Okay, I'll see you later then." Max placed a quick kiss on Vin's forehead, which Vin batted away.

"Stop that! I hate when you do that."

"He's gettin' better." Max said to Tommy just coming in the bedroom door.

"I got an idea Lena'd be upset to know you were kissing other people than her." Vin grumbled, but Max was already out of the room.

"How're you doing Small Fry?" Tommy asked.

"Oh I'm fixin' to run a footrace any time now." Vin said. "Whyn't you have a seat?" He pulled his feet back to make room on the settee. As if on cue, Dingo jogged stiff-legged into the room, hopped into the empty space, laid down with his head on Vin's leg and promptly fell asleep.

Tommy and Vin both stared at the dog a moment.

"Guess y'gotta be faster than that in this family." Vin said.

"I guess so." Tommy pulled the overstuffed chair close to the settee and sat down.

"So -." Vin said. "Y'didn't get married while I was sick, did you?"

"Nope, not 'til Autumn. I need you to make sure Maxwell doesn't pull any practical jokes on me."

"I don't reckon you gotta worry about that. Augusta handles a gun better'n he does, I don't think he'd want her mad at him."

"True." Tommy agreed. "I still need you there."

"I'll be there."

Then Vin tapped his feet under the coverlet and considered his words and just started.

"I had an idea Ma was here while I was sick."

"I'm sure she was." Tommy answered. "There's been times when I was sick I was sure Ma or my mother was nearby. Sometimes both of 'em. Stands to reason that the only thing stronger than death is a mother's love."

"So, you don't think I'm loco?"

"Well now, I didn't say that." Tommy told him, smiling. "You've done a thing or two in your life that makes me scratch my head wondering sometimes. But I don't doubt one minute that Ma's been here through all this."


	7. Chapter 7

Vin continued to get better. Soon he was up and dressed, taking short walks by himself back and forth across his room, trying to gain his strength back. Dingo, forever stretched out on the bed, would wag his tail whenever Vin walked to the door, then stop when he walked back to the windows.

"Pretty soon boy, we can go running again." Vin promised him. Dingo wagged his tail. "Though with your rheumatism and this bum leg, I think walking is all we'll manage for quite some time."

A few trips across his carpeted floor had Vin worn out and he laid down on the bed next to the dog. Dingo stretched happily, grumbling in his throat, and repositioned himself to lay with his back along Vin's side and his head on his arm.

Vin let himself fall into a light sleep, figuring the next person in the room would be Sofia checking on him and bringing him supper. The next thing he became aware of though was the sound of a quill pen scratching over paper. Dingo still slept heavily on his arm.

Without opening his eyes or moving, Vin could picture the scene in his room exactly. Eugene, taking a rest from work, would be sitting in the chair, wearing his good jacket over his work clothes, with his lensless glasses perched on his nose, and his cumbersome watch bulging in his jacket pocket.

Eugene liked to write stories, and somewhere he got the idea that a 'real writer' would only write while in his good clothes, wearing glasses, and using a quill pen. Eugene could have all the good metal nibs he wanted just for the asking, but he insisted that if a quill pen was good enough for James Fennimore Cooper, it was good enough for him. How he could be sure Cooper used a quill pen, Vin wasn't sure, but Eugene stuck to his guns and Uncle Eusebius had gladly provided the glasses and the pocket watch, and a carved mahogany walking stick that Eugene never used but had offered to Vin for his 'present infirmity'.

Sometimes at night, when Eugene was holed up in his room writing away, sometimes Vin would stretch out on the settee there and let Eugene read his stories to him. Usually when he did that, he woke up there the next morning, with a light blanket tossed over him and Dingo snoring on the floor near his head. He heard a lot of his own ventures in there, though Eugene didn't name him exactly.

So, without moving or opening his eyes, he asked now,

"You writin' about me?"

"Someone certainly thinks highly of himself." Eugene answered.

"What _are_ you writin' about then?"

"A pair of spectacles."

That made Vin open his eyes and look at Eugene. Sure enough, he was sitting there in his good jacket and glasses just like Vin thought he would be.

"You're writing a story about _spectacles_?"

"Yes."

"Would that be with'r without the lenses?"

Eugene pulled a sour face.

"I fail to see the humor in that remark."

"It's a wonder you ain't better at poker with a face like that."

"I believe we've well established that I am not better at poker because I am saddled with freres who cheat."

Instead of admitting or denying that claim, Vin asked,

"So, what's so all-fired special about them glasses you gotta write a whole story about em?"

"Whoever puts them on can see what the person who wore them before had seen while wearing them."

"How do they do that?"

"I don't know."

"How can you write it if you don't know how it works?"

"It's not important _how_ they work, as long as they _do_ work."

"Well if I was reading that story, I'd be all the time wondering how those spectacles worked like that." Vin was only ribbing Eugene, but he said it seriously. "Don't know as I'd be able to concentrate on the whole rest of the story if I didn't know -."

"They're magic. There, does that satisfy you?" Eugene huffed. "A bewildered leprechaun enchants them with fairy dust and that's how they work."

Feigning complete innocence, Vin asked, "How's the fairy dust work?"

Eugene looked about ready to suffer apoplexy.

"I _will_ strangle you, you know. People will think that you've succumbed to your injury, or that Dingo smothered you in your sleep. I'm a writer after all, I can invent a plausible story."

Vin had to laugh, closing his eyes again and pulling his arm out from under Dingo.

"You're just too easy Eugene, you know that? Too easy."

"I would answer that insufferable remark, but I'm no longer speaking to you."

Then they were quiet for awhile, Vin and Dingo on the bed, and the only sounds in the room were the sounds of Eugene dipping his pen into his inkwell, and scratching his story out onto his paper.

"Eugene?"

"Hmmm?"

"What's the story really about?"

"It seems there are two brothers, one travels and one does not. The traveling brother wears the glasses wherever he goes, so that when he returns, he can give them to his brother so that he can share in his adventures."

"That sounds nice. After supper, will you come back up and read it to me?"

"Of course."

As Vin blinked his eyes wearily, deciding if he should go back to sleep or not, Tom came into his room.

"Supper's about ready." He said to Eugene, and asked of Vin, "How're you doing, boy?"

"Tired. But only tired. Except Eugene here won't tell me how magic fairy dust works."

"Well that's because if you know how it works," Tom explained, "it don't work anymore."

"Thank you!" Eugene said. He packed up his supplies, got to his feet, and headed for the door. "Why weren't you here a half hour ago?"

"He's too easy." Vin said, when Eugene was safely out of earshot. He pulled himself up to sitting, with a little help from Tom, and leaned back against his headboard.

"I heard him tell you about that story." Tom said. He took the chair Eugene had vacated. "Sounds like a couple of brothers I know."

"Sometimes the things he writes about do sound a might familiar." Vin allowed. "He won't admit it though."

"Someday, when you're well enough, we need to talk about this habit of wandering you got. We almost lost you."

"Well, I don't know as you can say it was the _wandering_ exactly that caused that." Vin offered, hesitantly. Backtalk was not allowed in this house, and he wasn't sure how close he might be coming. "It was being on the posse and getting in the way of the ricochet that did it. And you wouldn't have wanted me to not join the posse, would you?"

"_I_ think it was your pure muleheadedness that had you not asking for help when you needed it." Tom said. "But no – I'm proud of you for joining that posse."

Vin grinned his appreciation of that remark. "That's still not the wandering though…" he said.

"I can see why Eugene left here in such a temper." Tom said. "You argue just like your Ma." He stood up and patted Vin's shoulder. "Supper'll be here in a minute. And we _are_ gonna have that talk."

"Yessir."


	8. Chapter 8

Nightfall brought a slight chill into the air. Tom lit the lamp on the porch wall and sat in one of the wicker chairs to rest a bit. Now that Vin was out of danger and getting well, now that Tom could turn his mind to things other than worry and prayer, he thought he should be getting back to business, taking care of all of the little details of life he'd been ignoring while the boy lay somewhere between life and death. But he was tired and wanted to rest. Tomorrow he'd get a fresh start.

He heard the screen door open and expected Sofia to come onto the porch; everybody else he figured was asleep. He was surprised when the Prodigal himself stepped out.

"Your Mama know you're up and about?" He asked. In answer, Vin showed him the glass of milk and oatmeal cookie he was carrying. Tom smiled. "So she not only knows you're here, she provisioned you. C'mon around and have a seat. Get off of that leg."

Vin limped around the wicker furniture and set himself slowly into the closest chair. He was dressed in a nightshirt and wore a wool robe over it against the chill.

"You should be in bed." Tom told him.

"Dingo was snoring."

"Must've took you awhile to make it all the way down here."

Vin indicated his glass of milk. "I think Maxwell was still milking the cow when I started."

"Well then, we'll see if we can't get you back to bed before Christmas."

"Feels good to get out of the house again." Vin said, after a bite of cookie and a swallow of milk. "Fresh air feels good."

"How's your leg?"

"Hurts some, more from just not using it I reckon. Kinda stiff."

"Maybe that'll keep you grounded to the homestead awhile longer then."

"I promised Tommy already I'd be here for the wedding. Though I don't reckon I'll be fit to travel anywhere before then anyhow."

"You know it's gonna be awhile before your Mama even lets you off this front porch." Tom said.

"Yessir, I do know that." A smile accompanied the words, but it didn't last. "Didn't you ever want to be somewhere you never been before? See something that maybe no white man ever laid eyes on before you? Learn something you never woulda learned if you hadn't left home?"

"I'm kinda partial to seeing the same people in the same places every day."

"That changes." Vin said. "You and me know that always changes. Tommy'll get married and move to that house he's building across the river. Then Max, and they won't be around here all the time. Nothing don't change."

"But Max and Tommy will still be where I can walk over and see them if I want to."

"You moved. This ain't where you grew up. Sometime'r other you left Ransomville back in New York and moved out here."

"But the point was to _get_ here and _stay_ here. The journey wasn't the point, it was the means to the end."

Vin sighed. "I need to wander just as much as Eugene needs to write. You wouldn't ask Eugene to give up his writing would you?"

"The day Eugene's writing comes this close to killing him, I'll do more than _ask_ him to give it up." Tom said.

"That's like saying if Eugene got shot going to town to buy ink, you'd make him stop writing. It's not the wandering that nearly killed me."

Tom raised an eyebrow at the near surly tone and Vin stared hard down at his glass of milk. He'd been known to backtalk, when he was younger, when he was hot under the collar or so frustrated by something that he couldn't check himself. That was true of all the boys except Robert. Tom didn't think Vin was working to avoid backtalking now; he could see yearning in the boy's eyes, not anger.

"Robert don't just seem to care if he ever sets foot off this property, and I don't fault him for that. But I'm not like that. Most days I feel hemmed in by the horizon and I want t'find a way past it. Only I can't go out on the trail with you like Tommy did, 'cause you ain't a lawman anymore. I can't just go up talking to people anywhere, anytime, any reason, like Max can. I can't find the world in books like Eugene does. All I got is me, and where I can get to. That's the only school I ever learned anything in."

Tom was moved by Vin's words. It was the most he'd heard the boy say all at once, except maybe when he was arguing with Eugene.

"I worry about you out there all by your lonesome."

"I can take care of myself."

Though he didn't, Tom felt like shaking his head. At eighteen, Vin probably felt all grown up. Once he _was_ grown, and had young ones himself, he'd know that your child was always your child, whether he was eighteen or eighty.

"All I ask is that you always come home. Whatever happens, whatever you might do, whatever might get done to you, you come home. You hear me?"

"I hear you." Vin nodded. "I promise I'll never wander far."

"I think you and me might disagree on what 'far' means." Tom said.

It was meant lightly, but Vin nodded again, considering it seriously.

"I promise I'll never wander anywhere I can't get back on foot if I have to."

"All right then." Tom moved to sit next to Vin, on his uninjured side. He put his arm around his shoulders and hugged him tight. He figured it was only the darkness and the fact that all his brothers were in bed that kept the boy from bolting at the contact.

"I love you boy. I'm lucky you're my son." He was surprised but pleased when Vin leaned into the embrace.

"Reckon I'm pretty lucky myself." Vin said.

The end!!!


End file.
